


sharp

by 30toseoul



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30toseoul/pseuds/30toseoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd been checked out less blatantly at the bathhouses in South Beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sharp

It wasn't that Lorne was exactly surprised. There was a reason he'd killed time until Jackson was the only one left in the locker room -- a reason he never acted on unless he was already pretty goddamn sure -- but still. _Jesus_. He'd been checked out less blatantly at the bathhouses in South Beach.

"I was planning to get some fried chicken for dinner," Jackson said, calmly and to his locker, when he finally turned away. "Want to come along?"

"Yeah, sure," Lorne said. He pulled on his boxers and very carefully didn't look up at the camera in the corner.

.

For a little while Lorne wondered if he'd somehow misinterpreted that look, because they did get fried chicken. There was a hole-in-the-wall takeout place across the street from Jackson's apartment, and they chatted circumspectly about their latest offworld missions while they waited for a bucket and a couple of sides. Not that the food didn't smell great, and he hadn't eaten since some tasteless lunchtime meatloaf at the Alpha site, but there were other things he hadn't had for a lot longer.

He didn't have to wonder much, though. Ten minutes later Jackson put the paper bags next to his stove and then pushed Lorne up against the opposite counter with no preliminaries, unbuttoning Lorne's jeans with a tiny frown of concentration before he dropped to his knees.

Lorne groaned low in his chest, bit his lip and then nearly bit _through_ his lip as Jackson swallowed him down. One hand cupping and rolling his balls, one hand kneading at the back of his thigh, and it didn't take very long before he was groaning openly and trying not to shove his cock all the way down Jackson's throat.

Jackson pulled off when he was fully hard -- sucking for a few seconds at the head of Lorne's cock before he let go, and Lorne had to hold back a moan of complaint when that perfect sensation went away -- but then Jackson was standing up and unzipping his pants quickly, flushed and breathing fast, and he forgot his disappointment when Jackson braced against him, shoved him harder against the counter and jerked both of their cocks expertly in one hand.

It felt fucking amazing, Jackson's spit slick on his cock easing the friction between them; Lorne fumbled his hands up under Jackson's shirt and dug his fingers into skin and muscle, trying to hang on for the ride, the edge of the counter digging into his back and it felt better than anything had felt for a long time, being pinned like this. Not much chance for what he needed in the fishbowl world of the SGC and god, he needed this.

Jackson was panting harshly against his neck, hot gusting breath that made Lorne groan again and tip his head back; he felt Jackson shift and then a hand was twisted roughly into his hair, pulling his head farther to the side, Jackson licking and biting a bright scoring line from his jaw to his shoulder. "Fuck, _fuck_ ," Lorne grunted, his hips twisting -- Jackson was going to have bruises from his fingers digging in, he was probably going to have marks from Jackson sucking on his neck, and he didn't care one damn bit.

He came hard and shivering, wet spill over Jackson's hand that just made Jackson brace and jerk their cocks harder, and the sharp edges of teeth clamping down felt just as good as everything else, perfect half-painful pressure on the curve of his shoulder before Jackson pushed against his stomach and came with a muffled curse that didn't sound like English.

.

They didn't talk about it after, of course, beyond exchanging rueful grins at the mess they'd made of their clothes. The chicken tasted great even when it was cold, and they watched the news and talked some more shop before Lorne took a cab back his quarters.

It was just what he'd needed, and even better since he hadn't had to waste time going to a club or cruising online. Working at the SGC taught you to maximize the little free time you got. Lorne thought that he wouldn't mind if Jackson was open to a repeat or two. He wasn't military, but he definitely seemed to know the score.

.

The bruise didn't show above his uniform collar, so he didn't have to worry about violating regs. He liked it, even. The twinge when he rolled his shoulder, the dull ache when he pressed a finger into the muscle. It made him think speculatively whether he might like to try another round sooner rather than later, see if Jackson was up for it.

He thought about that, right up until he was changing out of house BDUs into his offworld uniform and General O'Neill strolled into the locker room to talk about the duty roster, and he saw the general's eyes snap to his neck right in the middle of their conversation.

O'Neill was good; his expression didn't change at all. He kept talking about SG-11's mission schedule after a pause that was so short it almost wasn't there.

.

He knew there were at least six other field-grade officers who'd also volunteered, and who either outranked him or had SGC seniority, but Lorne got his orders to Atlantis two weeks later. He didn't ask any questions.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted in the Livejournal **jackslashdaniel** community on 01 December 2006.


End file.
